


When the War Ends

by Whyis_Scribbles



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Battle, Historical Hetalia, How Do I Tag, WWII, like ppl die in this so be warned, pacific theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyis_Scribbles/pseuds/Whyis_Scribbles
Summary: America's fighting a losing battle in WWII, but can he truly accept death as his fate?





	When the War Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, for those of you who don't know, this is an AU created by Veni and me where aph America is created in 1776 and raised by the colonies/states. Almost all the states are older than America and have a history before they joined the union. For more information, visit @ask-thefiftystatesofamerica on Tumblr <3 
> 
> And just btw, this fic is set in the Pacific Theatre during the time where Americans are fighting against the Japanese before the bombs were dropped.

The invasion is going really,  _ really _ badly for America’s company since the moment they were lowered into the waist-deep ocean, and began their march toward the Japanese.

Yet for some miraculous reasons… that can still qualify as an understatement.

America hissed as he ripped off a strip of his uniform and tied it around his bleeding arm. The young man winced, feeling the bullet being pushed deeper into his flesh, but America can’t back down now as his men are fighting a siege of Japanese artillery fire, pushing against the hailstorm of bullets dauntlessly.

They have to advance.

“Take cover!” He heard a sergeant screamed as their formation was swept over by another round of bullets. But there was no cover for the Americans to take on the vacant beach. They are naked in the face of the enemy.

A Japanese soldier screamed something resembling a battle cry in his native tongue as he charged forward to the Americans feverishly, and before anyone knew what was happening, the soldier ignited and a deafening explosion erupted across the sandy beach as Japanese soldier sacrificed himself to eliminate these foreign men who are tasked to triumph over his homeland.

The explosion detonated a screeching ringing inside America’s mind and red began to blossom across the beach, staining the pale ivory sand beneath them. America blinked in confusion. His astonished mind failed to acknowledge any of its surroundings--endeavoring to even comprehend the ludicrous soldier and the staggering explosion. But of course, there’s no room for a man to be stunned on the battlefield, for death slaughters those who fail to act in content.

“---God fu--- d-----it-----”

America’s ears picked up a faint yell above the ringing and the ongoing battle around him before he was suddenly yanked up from the ground by another American soldier--a corporal? Perhaps A sergeant? America couldn’t tell but the man held clear authority in his commands.

“---MOVE---!”

The soldier screamed at the men around him and he practically dragged the dumbfounded nation behind him as they advanced. This vacant Japanese beach is a destined graveyard for the American soldiers. They will die if they stay, they will die if they show their backs to the Japanese… what the hell, why not take their chances and push forward?

“Let’s move it!” The man cried out to the soldiers scattered across the beach while shoving America toward the general direction of the forest of trees where the Japanese soldier had been taking cover and firing onto the invaders.

Another explosion erupted across this uninhabited island, accompanied by a chain of shrieks from their enemies.

A Japanese officer barked out several rushed commands, but his soldiers were too distracted by the grenade to oblige. And that split second of hesitation paved the path for the Americans to enter the cover of the woods.

“This way!” the soldier who had pulled America off the ground shouted as he practically herded the handful of men that were what’s left their company. Their captain was nowhere to be seen. America hoped that the poor man had somehow survived this brutal slaughter as their acting leader seized his arm and yanked him through the woods.

“Get your head out of your ass, you can daydream later!” He yelled, raising his pistol to shoot at the Japanese soldiers between the trees.

“R- right-” America mumbled. He fumbled with his gun as pain surged through his body on a merciless crusade. The entirety of his being screeched for America to stop, or at least compel the bullets in his flesh first. The young nation clenched his jaws tightly before he raised his gun and aimed, ignoring the desperate plea his body had given in order to cover his comrades as the group made their way around the woods, seeking for a proper shelter.

Thankfully, they have found what they were looking for soon enough, a relatively inner area amongst the trees where the Japanese had not yet settled, and the leader of their American company practically spit out commands as he shoved the men into this temporary shelter, “Now, the fourth battalion should have landed about a quarter of a mile west, we can regroup with--”

But their leader never got to finish his sentence as a Japanese bullet pierced his throat. His blood splattered across America’s cheeks, burning his skin like acid, and the man collapsed beside them like a puppet who has lost its strings. Before any of them can react, the only one who can remain relatively calm when facing a hailstorm of bullets was dead.

“D- dear god-” a young soldier beside America stuttered a short prayer at the sight, his eyes widened slightly as tears filled his eyes.

“We’re dead.” said another, and quite frankly America agreed.

They are pretty much dead. Their leader had led them away from the bare sandy beach and into a temporary shelter, but he was killed before any further instructions could be given. The Japanese are closing in, and along with them came the faint callings of death.

What should they do? What can they do? They are but a handful of young men, barely out of their teenage years. They are on foreign soil, facing foreign enemies, without a mentor or a leader or a guide.

America felt his heart sank into his stomach. He thought of Europe. Oh, how different was it back then… Fighting seemed so different without a certain Englishman yelling into his ears and pulling him back onto his feet whenever he fell. But there are no allies to watch his back here on the Pacific theater.

Damn how he missed those grumpy old Europeans…

_ ‘Bloody Americans…’  _ England had mumbled under his breath every time he saw America and his men. These innocent American boys, untainted by the darkness of war, laughing and dreaming of “saving Europe’s ass”. America had only scoffed and waved England off without giving him much of a thought, but now that he was alone on the shores of a foreign Island, America finally understood how England had felt.

_ He’s not ready. _

America’s not ready for this goddamn war… he’s not ready for the crazy Japanese pilots who will fly their aircraft head first into a destroyer just to sink the American ship; he’s not ready for the suicidal fashion his cunning enemy employs in order to win a battle. He’s not ready to face this battle of life and death  _ alone _ .

America thought of England, he thought of France, of Canada, of India and Australia and all the other nations, hell- even fucking Russia! He thought of how they mentored and shared their knowledge in the war and fought alongside him. He thought of his allies who are all the way across the globe…  

Fighting two fronts fucking sucks.

The storm of Japanese artillery drew closer… this is it. This is the end of this company.

But America felt oddly at peace. Death is nothing new at this point. To be honest… perhaps it would even be a relief. America doesn’t want to fight anymore. He doesn’t want to struggle any longer. What for? They’re outnumbered and outgunned by their enemy. There’s no way they could win, and America is tired of this hopeless battle…

_ ‘Chut, mon cher…’  _ France had once said to America during World War One when the young nation had found the wounded Frenchman alone in the quagmire, surrounded by the blood-stained mud and countless corpses of what once was his soldiers.

_ ‘But… you’ve returned, and England said we have to-’ _

_ ‘Chut,’ _ the Frenchman had shushed softly. A tired smile lingered upon his lips as he closed his eyes again.

America hadn’t understood why the ancient nation chose stayed in the mud that day… but he kind of does now. Wars are just so… tiring. It hurts seeing his men suffer and it hurts, even more, to know that there’s nothing you could do to help…

Perhaps…

Perhaps he can learn to welcome death too.

He can learn to enjoy the brief moment of peace and comfort death would bring him before his regeneration returns his conscious back to his body. Or even better… if the Japanese throw his body into the bottomless pit of the ocean to clear their fields. That way, perhaps he would never have to wake up. He would make the Pacific his permanent residence, and he would never be forced to carry this burden of war on his shoulders ever again.

To be completely honest with himself… America doesn’t want to hold on anymore. After all those years, centuries of rises and falls and wars and bloodsheds… America is tired.

The young man sighed silently as he leaned against the tree that had shielded the remaining numbers of soldiers from the machine guns. He took a deep breath and forced his muscles to relax. Death is nothing new now, Alfred, America told himself as he slowly closed his eyes, shutting out the hellish universe around him, just clear your mind… it will be over before you knew it…

_ Promise me. _

A voice suddenly thundered in the back of America’s head, rising above the permissive phrases America tried to convince himself of. And no matter how hard he had tried to shut it out, the voices just kept swarming in his mind, arguing over one another, swarming him of what he’s said to convince those back home the war is something he  _ needs _ to participate in:

_ Someone has to do something. _

_ If England falls then I have no doubt we will be next. _

_ I’m the hero. If I don’t step in who will? _

_ I have to… I must protect democracy and freedom in the world. _

_ I’ve got to do it to protect you. _

_ ‘Fine, alright, Alfred, we get it,’  _ a familiar voice responded, promptly cutting off all the past exclamations of the young nation,  _ ‘just… just promise us you will come home safely, okay?’ _

America’s eyes suddenly snapped open at the faint memory of the days before he had left his homeland. Those days seemed to be centuries away…

_ Don’t worry,  _ America had told them with a careless laugh, _ I’m the hero. Of course I’ll return! _

His own words had never felt more hypocritical. His arrogant promise felt like sharpened blades, cutting into his heart with each syllable.

What ignorant being could have ever made a promise that seemed so utterly impossible to fulfill?

America bit down onto his bottom lips as the dirty lenses of his glasses misted for reasons he dared not to fathom.

That was a promise he had made to those he loves the most…

That was a promise America doesn’t know how to keep.

A small breath escaped his throat, though it was more like a sob than anything else. His vision blurred slightly as tears pooled in his eyes and America quickly squeezed them shut.

_ Sorry- I’m sorry- I’m so, so, sorry… _

America thought of those whom he had left behind for the war. He thought of all his arguments and reassurances; the guarantees he had made half-heartedly when they finally agreed to let him join the war.

Guilt bubbled in America’s chest, and shame was added to the mix soon enough. He’s going to die here on a tiny little Island in thousands of miles away; or worse, his body might be thrown overboard into the ocean by the Japanese soldiers, where he would remain for until the end of time, forever apart from his home and those he loves.

No.

No no no nO NO NO!

America thought to himself as he quickly ran a hand through his messy blond hair, parting the tangled locks drenched in sand and blood. His helmet was gone, but America could care less. There’s only one thing that had seemed clear to the American at the moment.

He can’t die here.

“F...” a single syllable slipped through America’s trembling lips, his voice cracked slightly before he screamed, “FIGHT!” exclaimed America. Tears fell from the corner of his eyes and slid down his cheeks uncontrollably as the young man screamed at the men around him. His voice rising above the hailstorm of fire and bullets that plagued the battlefield.

“We have to fight!” America commanded, madness burning in his eyes, “we all have something to lose! There are people who await for us back home!”

_ Stay safe, sweetheart. _

_ When you return, we will throw the biggest celebration you’ll ever see, Alfie! _

_ Don’t forget to write. _

Voices and faces flashed before America’s eyes. He could almost envision their happiness when the war is won. He could almost see them waiting for him by the golden Californian shores, cheering along with the crowds as the naval ships that carried him and his troops pulls into the ports.

His family is waiting for him to come home.

His brothers, sisters, those who had raised him and protected him; those who had faith in him even during the most challenging of times. They fought for him. They created him and made him into who he is today. How can America let them down? God, they trusted him to return!

Tears kept rolling down America’s bloodstained cheeks. And for a moment… the deafening thunder of Japanese faded as thoughts and memories of  _ home _ occupied America’s mind.

_ Virginia’s gentle embrace that reassured his anxieties… The soft lullabies Maryland hummed to calm his fears… the pride in New York’s voice as he spoke of what America can become… _

_ Rhode Island’s cold features that hid kindness and understanding… The faint bittersweet smell of chocolate in that accompanied Pennsylvania’s visits… the dreams of prominence California and he had shared and made true… _

This family he was given and the love he was blessed with… How could America let it go?

Oh God, he  _ has _ to return! He has to be back home to them! America can’t die on foreign ground- no- he has to survive! He has to aboard the first ship that was destined to sail across the Pacific Ocean with the news of victory for his people!

America clenched his jaws tightly as bullets grazed through the top of his head. This poor excuse of a shelter can’t save them from the Japanese fire forever. They need to move, and they need to move fast.

The Japanese are fearless. They don't care what it would take to claim victory. They’ve made peace with their loved ones back home, and they have nothing to lose or regret if they die on this fateful day.

But America does.

“I’m seeing my family again,” he told the other men, his voice was surprisingly steady with conviction, “ we have to fight to have even the slightest chance to, but by God I pity whichever bastard dared to stand in my way.”

America said softly as he stood up straighter. The young nation took a deep breath before he knelt down beside the tree, exposing himself to the enemy fire as he aimed.

_ He will return home.   _


End file.
